Chapter 7: A Second Chance

He didn’t attack me. I didn’t stick around to see if he would decide to. I basically told him that I had no interest in his pack, he made a few noncommittal sounds and a few vague threats, and then I left.

I stormed out through the other room. I opened the door a bit harder than I intended, nearly breaking it from the frame. All the others in the waiting room jumped and looked legitimately worried.

That was humbling.

I decide that it’s best not to go straight on to meet another of the alphas, and instead head to find something to eat and help myself calm down. I need to be a bit more zen if I’m going to make this work. It’s not their fault they’re all stuck in a backward system.

The world has changed. The way that used to work isn’t necessarily the way it’s going to work now. Everything is different. The spread of lycanthropy, whatever caused it, changed everything. And while there may still be value in the old way, it ain’t necessarily the right way.

But at the same time, I’m not going to get far being a rebel. They do have some knowledge I need. The old ways might be helpful to at least be aware of. I mean, I learned an incredible amount from Connor, but there are limits.

For example, he never told me that an alpha could force someone else to change. I wonder if I can do that. I mean, I was able to refuse the call, but that’s not the same. Could I put out that call? Could I make someone else turn into a wolf? And if I can, the more important question is could I make a wolf turn human?

It’s a lot to learn, or it’s a lot to figure out. But someone figured it out before, on their own. I at least have the benefit of being able to see some of what can be done, even if I don’t know how.

Listen to me, talking like I’m already deciding that I’m not going to join an existing pack. I don’t want to decide that. Being a lone wolf would suck. And maybe they’re right; maybe I can’t handle a pack of my own. Then again, maybe a small one would work.

I send out a quick text to the group chat to see how people are doing. Helliot sends me a thumbs up. Freddy sends a smiley face emoji. Greg sends a shrugging emoji, a surprised face emoji, a sleeping emoji, and a watch emoji. I have no idea what that means. But at least I can tell he’s not having trouble. I think.

I get some coffee and eat a bear claw, which seems oddly appropriate. I wish I smoked. I could use a cigarette, or something that will artificially calm me down. I feel like I’ve just spent thanksgiving with my racist grandmother, trying to keep my mouth shut because it isn’t worth the family drama.

This is not a good place for me to be, mentally speaking. I need to calm down. I should learn to meditate.

There’s a rumor that mixing wolfsbane with marijuana makes the kick powerful enough to actually calm down an angry werewolf, but there are also claims that wolfsbane is poisonous. And since wolfsbane, or monkshood, has always been poisonous to humans, I’m inclined to believe that it’s still bad.

But it would be nice if there was something.

It ends up taking me almost half an hour of walking out my anger before I was calm enough to meet with the next alpha. His pack is the Chaska pack, and they’re mostly on the southern side of the Twin Cities.

Once again, there’s a waiting room between me and the alpha. But this time, I’m the only one there. Aside from a young woman who looks like a secretary who was standing in front of the door like she was guarding it.

“Hello,” I say. “My name is Emily Constance. I’m supposed to have an appointment.”

The woman looks at me for a few seconds, her expression blank and her eyes clear. I’m starting to wonder if she even heard me. I open my mouth to speak again when she holds up a hand and points to her ear.

There’s a bluetooth in there, and it looks like she’s listening to someone else.

“The next session doesn’t start until after lunch,” she finally tells me. “But if you’re willing to wait a few minutes, he will see you. Please have a seat.”

I don’t know if that’s lucky or not. I do know that I apparently took longer to calm down than I thought. There were supposed to be three sessions before lunch, with four more of them after. I must have been fighting down my anger through an entire session and a half.

I take a chair and sit on the edge of it, not wanting to relax even if these were the kind of chairs that allowed for that sort of thing. The last one of these guys made me think we were going to throw hands, and I’m not going in there with my guard down. Which, logically, might be a problem.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the woman speaks again and tells me I can go in.

I close the door behind me, waiting for that same rush of anger, that same feeling of raised hackles. I’m waiting for my inner wolf to growl, for my lip to peel back from my teeth. I’m waiting for the itch as fur tries to get through my skin.

But I didn’t feel any of that. I look across the room, and there is an older man sitting on the desk. On it, legs criss-cross-applesauce. He has a big smile on his face, and his features are distinctly first nation.

“You will not join my pack,” he says, the smile somehow getting wider. “You would not fit in. But that doesn’t mean we need to be enemies. We should talk, but I want you to know, before we do, that I am not offering you a home.”

“Okay,” I say, not entirely sure how to take this. “Can I ask why?”

“You are too much of an alpha.”